


Admiration

by gemini_cole



Category: American Actor RPF, Chris Evans - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 07:42:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6648472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemini_cole/pseuds/gemini_cole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris is finally on his way home after a long press tour. His girlfriend decides to show him how much she missed him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Admiration

It isn’t easy being the “secret” girlfriend of a celebrity. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not here saying “boo-hoo, poor me. Nobody knows who I am!” Not even close. I’m a girl who likes her anonymity. The idea of having to put on mascara to go to the grocery store, just because of who I’m dating? No thanks.

            No, I mean it isn’t easy in the terms of always having plans cancelled at the last minute, or in my case right now, delayed for hours. And judging by the current late hour, I’m throwing in the towel on tonight’s planned romantic “reunion.”

            It had started first thing this morning. A text from my man, in and of itself always enough to make me smile, brought the news that he was finally coming home. This particular press tour had been a rough one. Worldwide, continent and time zone hopping, lasting for weeks, I knew my love was exhausted. He was on the first flight out of Tokyo, coming straight home to Boston. Perfect timing, as that means I had all day to prepare.

            I started by cleaning the apartment. When that was done to my satisfaction, I spent some time cleaning _me_. Not that I let my self go or anything, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, right? After three hours in the bathroom, I was lasered, loofahed, washed and conditioned. A new manicure and pedicure was next. I considered going to the grocery store and cooking a nice meal for him, but really, who was I kidding? We haven’t seen each other in nearly a month. A nice meal can wait, at least until the jetlag wears off.

            I spent an inordinate amount of time in my closet, trying to figure out what to wear. Picking out clothes to get fucked has always befuddled me. I mean, I know dudes are visual creatures; so ideally, I should go all out, with the fancy corset, garters, thigh-highs, and heels, right? He deserves that, right? He’s been gone for so long, and he did buy it for me. I could suck it up and squeeze myself into it. But does it have to be so fucking uncomfortable? Fuck it. I’m going to wear what I want. Who knows how long I’ll be wearing it, planning out this whole “seduction scene.” It could be minutes, or it could be hours, and I refuse to be that uncomfortable for that long.

            I decided that I would feel sexiest in something that I liked, so I picked my favorite La Perla set: a dark emerald-green halter style baby-doll top and matching shorts, trimmed with lace. Sweet, sexy, and most importantly, comfortable, I spent a few minutes wandering around the apartment lighting candles and “setting the mood” and I was ready.

            Now comes the suck. Waiting. Always, with the waiting. His plane should have been in at 8pm. I knew from previous experience he would have used the driver the studio provided to get home from the airport. I thought maybe a TV show, but couldn’t find anything interesting. So I watched a movie instead. When he still wasn’t home by the time the credits rolled, I started flicking through a magazine. After another hour and a half of waiting, I’m pacing the apartment like a caged tiger. A _cold_ caged tiger. Sweet and sexy lingerie doesn’t lend itself to warmth. I wrapped myself in his flannel robe and set about blowing out all the candles. It’s closing in on 2 am, and our welcome home celebration was officially cancelled. I’d say that we’d surely make up for it tomorrow morning, but another thing I’ve learned from past experience: once my man was asleep, he was _out_ with a capital O. I’d be lucky to get some “welcome home, it’s two in the afternoon, are you ever going to wake up?” sex.

            I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and washed my face. Climbing into bed, I grabbed a book off my nightstand and glanced longingly at his side of the bed. Smoothing my hand over the cool sheets, I murmured, “another night, perhaps.”

            Yes, I talk to myself. And inanimate objects. What, you don’t?

            I must have dozed off relatively quickly. The next thing I knew, I felt a weight disturbing the bed. Blinking in the half-light, I took in the sight of my love standing a few feet away, kicking off his shoes, his overnight bag the weight I’d felt on the bed. Scrambling to my knees I crawled across the bed, sending the bag tumbling to the floor in my haste.

            “You’re late!” I admonished.

            He grinned tiredly at me. “Yes I am. Are you wearing my robe?”

            I looked down. I was indeed still wearing his robe.

            “Sorry. I got cold waiting for you.” I slid it off, tossing it on the floor. I could feel his eyes burning into me. Turning back towards him, I watched as a mischievous grin slid across his features.

            “Miss me, did you?”

            “Maybe, just a little.” I cocked my head, watching as he pulled his shirt up and over his head, inch by inch revealing his taut muscles, covered by a smattering of freckles, and those tattoos that I loved, leaving him bare, with the exception of the St. Christopher’s medallion he always wore. I usually hated jewelry on men, but as always, Chris ended up being the one exception to my every ridiculous rule.       

            “What are you looking at?”

            I snapped out of my reverie, smiling lasciviously at him as I replied, “Just admiring the view.”

            He paused with his hands on his belt buckle and grinned at me. “Well, cut that shit out. I like your admiration hands on.”

            Of course. Men are always men. So much for seduction, right?

            Reaching out, I grazed my fingertips up the plains of his abs, to the aforementioned chain. Hooking a finger on it, I tugged gently, pulling him towards me. Leaning in, I nuzzled his neck. Nipping at my favorite spots, the twin freckles at the base, then up the length of his jaw, I placed a sweet kiss on his earlobe before drawing it between my teeth as well, delighting in the low rumble I felt in his chest. Feeling his hands fumbling at his belt, I slid my hands down the length of his arms, stopping him. Moving his hands away gently, I whispered, “Allow me.”

            Picking up where he left off, I popped open the button of his jeans, and slid down the zipper. Parting his jeans just enough to slip my hand inside, I palmed him through his boxers, delighting in his growing erection, as I felt his hands slide up my back. I drew back for a mere moment, just long enough for him to tug my top off. Smiling up at him, I grabbed the back of his head, pulling him down to meet my lips, showing him just how much I missed him with a bruising kiss. Judging by how urgently his lips moved against mine, he had missed me just as much. A thrill of victory fizzled up my spine as I began tugging his pants and boxers down, a new sense of urgency replacing my plan for a slow and steady seduction.

            I knew he felt it too, as he kicked off his pants leaving them in a heap on the floor. I dragged my nails down his back, leaving little crescent moons as I pulled him into me, sending us tumbling backwards on the bed. His weight pinned me to the bed as he hovered over me. I groaned, arching against him as his mouth ravaged me. I knew I would have evidence in the form of beard burns and bruises in the morning, but for him, I didn’t care. I was his, and he knew it, another wall I’d had previously that had tumbled before him.

            His hands worshipped me, cupping my breasts, as he kissed one, then the other, suckling them into greedy little peaks of need until I moaned his name aloud. With a devilish grin, he slid his hands down then, whisking the delicate silk shorts down my legs so fast I had to wonder if I’d imagined it, until I felt his hand between my thighs, his fingers tracing me most intimately. My legs parted immediately, and I felt like a wanton goddess as he smiled down at me. Moving slightly so he was on his side next to me, he kissed me slow and sweet as his fingers began their leisurely tour of my most intimate parts. His thumb drew lazy circles over my clit as I moaned into his mouth, my hips moving of their own accord against him. I pulled him closer still, my arm wrapped around him, my face buried in his neck as I began moaning his name. I needed him, badly.

            Pulling back, I looked up into his eyes, pleading. “Chris. Baby, please? Please?”

            He responded immediately, his voice rough, low. “What, baby? Tell me what you need. You know you only have to ask.”

            “You.” I whispered desperately. “I need you. I need you inside me. I need to feel you. I need more, please?” I was babbling, I knew it, but it had been too long, and I was close, so very close.

            In response I felt his fingers dip inside me, with slow, sure strokes. I moaned and arched my hips, biting my lip. I wouldn’t last much longer if he kept this up. Just as I felt my walls begin to flutter, he pulled out, bringing his fingers to his lips, sucking them suggestively. He was teasing me, and at that moment I could have cried in frustration. Just as I felt tears beginning to form at the corners of my eyes; he smiled down at me once more, dipping his head to meet mine, as he kissed me. Slowly, his tongue moving against mine, as I tasted myself on him, I used the momentary distraction to grab him with both hands, pulling him on top of me.

            He grabbed my hands, entwining our fingers as he raised them, settling them above our heads. His hips against mine, as I felt his cock, hard and throbbing against my center. He kissed me once more as he murmured, “I want to, but can’t bear to tease you anymore, not tonight. Hold on, baby. I won’t last long.”

            With that, he snaked one hand down between us grabbing his cock, and guiding it to me. Slowly, he sank in, inch by agonizing inch, waiting for me to adjust to him, ever the gentleman, even now, when I would have understood him not being as such.

            He rolled his hips, burying himself deep inside me as I wrapped my legs around his waist. Picking up speed he ground into me, as I canted my hips, meeting him thrust for thrust. Moaning, panting together as our breath mingled and became one, I felt him suddenly tense. Stepping outside myself, I put my own orgasm on pause. As much as I needed release too, I had missed this too much. I relished his first, as he moaned, biting off a barrage of curses as he emptied himself into me. The sensations triggered my own orgasm as I leapt off that cliff after him, pressing myself against him, every inch of our bodies clinging to each other’s, suspended for those precious few moments, enough but also never enough. Too soon, I felt him pull away infinitesimally as he pulled the blankets over us, tucking us in. Bringing my body flush to his, always the big spoon to my little spoon. As we drifted off, he murmured, “Now, that’s what I call admiration.”

            Yeah, I know. Dork. But he’s a sexy dork. And he’s my sexy dork, which means you can’t have him. Find your own.

           


End file.
